


In Every Universe

by Pugglemuggle



Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dante POV, First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Young Love, Yuletide, Yuletide 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugglemuggle/pseuds/Pugglemuggle
Summary: They meet in college. Dante notices the boy in the U2 shirt the moment he walks through the door.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisatsel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisatsel/gifts).



> Written for Yuletide 2016. I'm ecstatic that I got the chance to write for this book—it's honestly one of my favorite books of all time and I'm so happy I got the excuse to make this fic! I hope you like it! :D

Dante notices the boy in the U2 shirt the moment he walks through the door.

The kid is tall and skinny and Mexican, just like almost everyone else here. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his worn out jeans and his shoes look like they have holes in them. He’s hardly dressed to impress, which makes him different. Most of the other freshmen here look like they’ve tried to dress as queer as possible, and Dante is no exception—he spent an hour this morning picking out his black skinny jeans, white V-neck, and blue cardigan. He’s even wearing a scarf. It’s a little over the top, he knows, but this is the first QSA meeting of the year, and he’s a freshman in college, and just like everybody else, he’s desperately trying to make friends.

That’s partly why the U2 shirt kid catches his eye. He isn’t even trying. He takes a quick look around the room and then takes an empty seat at the edge of the circle before pulling out his phone. He’s an enigma, Dante thinks. An inscrutable outlier. Unknowable.

Which makes Dante want nothing more than to get to know him.

“Hi, everyone!” the club president says, getting to their feet. Dante looks away from the boy and looks towards the front of the room. “Welcome to the first QSA meeting of the year at UT El Paso! Thank you for coming. My name is Alex and I use they/them pronouns. We’re going to start off today with introductions since there’s a lot of new faces. How about we just start with names and pronouns?”

Dante tries to listen, but he’s too distracted waiting for his own turn to come, and then after “Hi everyone, I’m Dante, and I use he/him pronouns”, he’s caught up trying to make sure he doesn’t miss U2 kid’s name. When the boy does speak, his voice is lower than Dante expected.

“Hi,” he says. “I’m Ari. He/him.”

Ari. He likes that name.

Once introductions have finished, Alex stands again and transitions the meeting into more of a free-for-all mixer. The room starts to fill with chatter as small groups start to form throughout the room, natural and free-flowing. Dante makes his way towards Ari.

“Hi,” he says. “My name’s Dante. He/him. You’re Ari, right?”

“Yeah,” says Ari. He looks a little confused. “Yeah, I’m Ari. He/him.”

“Nice to meet you, Ari,” Dante says. “Ari—that’s kind of a unique name.”

“Huh,” Ari says, grinning, and it’s not a big smile but it still changes Ari’s face, makes him look younger, somehow. It’s perfect. Dante doesn’t think he wants him to stop smiling, like, ever. “Dante isn’t that common of a name, either.”

“Probably more common than Ari,” Dante shoots back, and now he’s smiling, too. “Besides, I asked first, so you have to go first. Tell me your story.”

“What?”

“The story behind your name.”

“Oh. Okay. It’s not that exciting, though.”

“It’s fine. I’m all ears,” Dante said.

“Well, my first name is actually Angel. You know,  _ Angel, _ ” Ari begins, saying his name with the Spanish pronunciation. “My middle name is Aristotle, which is the English version of my grandfather’s name,  _ Aristotiles _ . That’s where I get Ari.”

“So your real name is Angel Aristotle?” Dante asks, and he can’t help it—he’s laughing.

“Yeah,” Ari shrugs, his smile still there but fainter. “It’s a pretty weird name, huh?”

“No, no—I mean, it is, but that’s not why I’m laughing,” Dante says quickly. “I’m laughing because I’m usually the one who has to explain my weird name. I’m Dante, like  _ Dante’s Inferno _ . My dad’s an English professor.”

And then they’re both laughing. It’s a beautiful sound. Dante isn’t sure if they’re laughing at their names, or at each other, or just because they’re nervous freshmen trying to fit in. Dante doesn’t especially care either way. All he wants is to make Ari laugh again.

He does, two more times: once when he jokes about some of the stock photos on the freshman orientation pamphlet, and again when he tells a story about his dad. And Ari isn’t the only one who’s laughing—Dante’s lost track of the number of times that Ari’s made him laugh. Ari is  _ funny _ —so much funnier than Dante expected. His jokes are in a single-word phrase or a raised eyebrow or a gesture. Sometimes the jokes are so quick that Dante almost misses them—but he doesn’t. He never misses them. Ari’s sense of humor is dry and subtle and Dante can feel himself getting more than a little enamored.

_ You’ve known this guy for twenty minutes _ , Dante reminds himself.  _ Slow down. _

But... it’s just so  _ easy _ . Conversation with Ari is effortless, as if they’ve known each other since they were kids. The ebb and flow of words is a familiar current for Dante, but with Ari it’s as easy as breathing. There’s no ice to break. They’re swimming in warm water like they’ve been doing it for years.

“Favorite superhero?” Ari asks him. Dante pretends to consider the question, even though he already knows how he’s going to answer.

“Superman. Definitely superman.”

“Really?” Ari says, raising an eyebrow. “He’s pretty boring, don’t you think?”

“No way,” Dante insists. “Superman is the  _ first _ superhero. He’s pretty much the most powerful superhero there is.”

“But that’s what makes him boring,” Ari says. “He doesn’t really have to work to save anyone—he’s just that powerful.”

“What’s wrong with being powerful?”

“There’s just... There’s no real  _ conflict _ . You always know that Superman is going to win and that he’s going to be okay. It’s low stakes.”

“What can I say? I like a happy ending,” Dante says, smiling. “Superman’s about idealism, I guess. The American Dream, and all that.”

“The American Dream if you’re a pretty successful white guy,” Ari points out. “We Mexicans have to read the darker stuff if we want to see ourselves there.”

“Alright, Ari. Who’s your favorite, then?”

Ari shrugs. “Probably Spider-man.”

Dante laughs. “Isn’t Peter Parker, like, the ultimate white kid?”

“Maybe, but Peter Parker isn’t the only Spider-man. Like, Miles Morales. He’s not white—he’s half black, half Puerto Rican.”

“Okay, okay. That’s fair,” Dante concedes. He pauses, taking a second to think. “Maybe that’s why I like Northstar so much—seeing yourself in the things you read, and all that.”

He makes sure to say it casually, like it’s not a big deal. There’s even a part of him that believes it— _ be honest, be true, be you _ . It’s not hard. Dante’s an open book. They’re at a QSA meeting, so it’s not like anyone’s really expecting him to be straight. But there’s also a part of him that remembers getting the shit beat out of him in an alleyway last year after those guys found him kissing another boy next to the dumpster, and he wishes the scar on his arm and the dull phantom ache in his ribs wouldn’t have this much impact, but they do. So he doesn’t say, “Yeah, I’m gay.” He says “I like Northstar” and hopes that Ari understands what he’s trying to say.

And he does. For the first time since they started talking, Ari ducks his head a little, looking... embarrassed? Nervous? Shy? Dante can’t tell. He tilts his head up again and meets Dante’s eyes when he says, “Northstar is fine, but I’ve always been more of a Young Avengers guy.”

“I see,” Dante says. He can’t stop grinning.

“Okay everyone, that’s all the time we have for today’s meeting!” Alex says over the chatter. “We’ll have another meeting next week to get some advocacy activities started up—same place and time. Thank you all for coming! It’s going to be a great year!”

“I can’t believe we’ve been here for a whole hour,” Dante says. He checks his phone to see a new text from his dad, received forty minutes ago— _ Left to go help Mom with dinner, sorry! Let me know when you’re done and I can come pick you up. _

“Looks like my dad already left without me,” Dante says. He begins to type— _ Don’t worry, I can take a bus! Love you! _

“You share a ride with your dad?” Ari asks.

“Yeah. He works here. English professor, remember?”

“So you live off campus with your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” says Ari. “I can give you a ride, if you want. I drove here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Ari shrugs.

Even though he’s excited about the prospect of spending a little more time with Ari, he can’t help but feel disappointed. Is this it? Dante’s not ready to go home yet, not ready to leave this conversation. It still feels like they’ve only just started.

Dante hesitates, then asks, “Are your parents waiting for you at home?”

Ari gives him a weird look. “Uh, why?”

“I was just thinking, do you want to grab some food? My treat.”

“Sure,” Ari says, and there’s that smile again. Dante can’t help but smile too. “What kind of food were you thinking?”

“There’s an ice cream place right on campus that I’ve been wanting to try.”

“That’s not really dinner food, is it?”

“Who cares? We’re in college—we’re not supposed to eat healthy.”

“Okay, fine. I’m in,” Ari says. Dante’s heart soars.

They don’t stop talking as they leave the QSA meeting. They don’t stop during the entire walk to the ice cream parlor. They don’t stop when they’re waiting in line, or when they’re choosing ice cream flavor (“Birthday Cake flavor? Really, Dante?”) or when they’re sitting outside the shop on a ledge overlooking the campus square. It’s not dark yet in El Paso—not at 7:00 PM in early fall. It’s getting there, though. The air is muggy and the light is slanting sideways across the brick in front of them, shadows reaching further and further into the sunlight’s space. Ari’s skin looks almost bronze in this light.

Dante sets his bowl of ice cream down next to him and starts taking off his shoes.

“What are you doing?” Ari asks.

“I don’t like shoes,” Dante explains. He sets the shoes on the ledge too, then picks up his ice cream again.

“You’re a little weird, Dante,” Ari grins.

“Says the guy named Angel Aristotle.”

“Says the guy named  _ Dante _ .”

“Touché,” Dante says. A small silence settles between them, the first pause in conversation since they met. It makes Dante nervous—should he be saying something?—but Ari seems content, so Dante tries to let himself be content, too. The sunset is gorgeous, after all.

“Hey, Dante?” Ari asks after a few minutes.

“Yeah?” Dante replies.

“Why’d you come talk to me back at the QSA meeting?”

“Well,” Dante says, deciding to be bold, “you’re cute. That was definitely part of it.”

Ari laughs, looking surprised. “I’m not cute.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Ari gives him a small, strange look, something caught between bashful and skeptical. Dante wants to call him cute again to see if he can get the same reaction. Before he can try, Ari says, “Okay, fine. You said that was only part of it. What was the other part?”

“Hm,” Dante says. “I guess you just seemed really.... I don’t know,  _ noteworthy _ .”

“Noteworthy?”

“Like....” He pauses, considering. “You show up in a T shirt and jeans, and don’t get me wrong—it looks great on you. But you weren’t  _ trying _ , not like everyone else. You showed up, and you sat by yourself, and you forced me to wonder, ‘Why did he come? What does he want here?’” Dante takes a breath. “I don’t know. You just seemed so  _ mysterious _ and I... I wanted to get to know you.”

Ari looks at him with an inscrutable expression, quiet.

“What?” Dante asks.

Ari shrugs. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“Do you mind if I ask a question now?” Dante asks, fidgeting with his spoon.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Why  _ did _ you come? To the meeting, I mean.”

Ari shrugs again. “Why does anyone do anything?”

“C’mon, Ari, play fair,” Dante says, nudging his shoulder with his own. “I answered your question.”

Ari shakes his head a little, looking almost lost. The sun has just slipped behind the building at the far end of the square. Any minute now, the street lamps around the square will illuminate to help supplement the fading light. “I... I don’t really know, Dante. I guess.... I don’t know.”

There’s another small break in conversation as Ari looks at his hands, silent. Dante waits and tries this best to be patient. A slow breeze slips between them, and for a moment, the stuffy air feels clear.

“Maybe....” Ari says softly, wetting his lips. “Maybe I went because I wanted to prove to myself that I could. That I belonged there. I hope that makes sense.”

Dante looks over at him again. The way Ari’s brows are furrowed makes him seem determined—righteous, almost. “Don’t worry, it definitely makes sense,” Dante says. “I think... I think I know exactly what you mean.”

Later when they’re in Ari’s truck, parked in front of Dante’s house and trying to figure out how to say goodbye, Dante reaches over and writes his phone number on the palm of Ari’s hand. “Text me, okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, alright,” Ari answers. His hand is warm and rough in Dante’s own and he doesn’t want to let go. He swipes his thumb over the pulse in Ari’s wrist, just once, and then releases his hand. Ari is smiling so softly that Dante thinks his heart might burst. God, this boy....

“Hey, are you free on Tuesday night?” Dante asks suddenly. “I heard that they’re doing a free movie showing at the Student Center, if you’re interested.”

“Do you know what movie they’re going to be playing?” Ari asks.

Dante shakes his head and grins. “No idea.”

“Well then, sure, count me in,” Ari says. They stare at each other for a moment, just smiling.

“Okay, well, I should let you get going,” says Dante. He opens the car door and steps out onto the pavement. “I’ll see you Tuesday, though.”

“Yeah. Tuesday at the Student Center,” Ari confirms.

“Goodbye, Ari.”

“Bye, Dante.”

He closes the car door and watches as Ari’s truck pulls onto the street and shrinks away down the road. The light from Ari’s headlights eventually disappears altogether, becoming indistinguishable from the street lamps overhead. Dante turns around and heads inside amidst the late autumn crickets.

Ari is special. Of that much, Dante is sure. There’s so much about him that he doesn’t know yet, so many new things to discover. It makes Dante giddy. He can’t help feeling like he was  _ meant _ to meet Ari at that meeting—destiny, or maybe fate. Dante believes in fate. He wonders if Ari believes in it too, if he feels the same pull in his chest that Dante does, this  _ belonging _ . In every universe, Dante thinks, he and Ari are supposed to meet.

He's sure of it.


End file.
